


Booze and a Little Bowie

by Rehfan



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Cowgirl Position, Drunk Erica, Drunk Sex, Drunk Stiles, Drunken Shenanigans, Dubious Consent, F/M, Glitter, Heterosexual Sex, Multi, Nipple Play, Polyamory, Rollerskates, Vaginal Fingering
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-30
Updated: 2016-01-30
Packaged: 2018-05-17 04:47:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,811
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5854771
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rehfan/pseuds/Rehfan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles and Erica are bored and there's booze in the house so why not mix in a little wolfsbane and get drunk as hell?<br/>After all... they're BORED and their boyfriend Derek is out so they've got the loft to themselves!<br/>So this is all a great idea and won't result in Derek being angry about the rollerskates or Stiles' hair or glitter all over his loft, right?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Booze and a Little Bowie

They knew in their heart of hearts that it would piss Derek off if the loft got fucked up while he was away. I mean, his reaction to finding a rave going on in it that one night was actually kind of mild compared to what Stiles had expected out of the werewolf. But he supposed that slicing open a few dozen teenagers wouldn’t have resulted in good things in the long run, so it was kind of good that Derek had possessed that kind of self-restraint.

  
Of course, he would need every ounce of it if he were to see the state of things when he finally got home that evening.

  
They had been bored. At least, that’s how it started three hours earlier. They hadn’t planned on drinking all of Derek’s vodka and wolfsbane, but when they did, they figured the rest of the rum would be okay to drink too.

  
“Do another round of shots with me, Stiles!” whined Erica from across the loft. She glided over to him on an old-fashioned pair of roller skates that she found in the corner of one of Derek’s closets. They must have belonged to Cora, but they fit Erica like a dream and after the vodka had disappeared, she refused to take them off. The rubber stopper on the front of her left skate skidded as she slowed herself. Despite her efforts, her speed was such that she almost landed in Stiles’ lap. He caught her by the shoulders and snuck a quick kiss.

  
“Ooh!” she cooed. “You naughty boy!” She giggled and handed him the glass she had been carrying. He set it down on the coffee table, almost missing its surface. They had added a trace amount of wolfsbane to the rum and Cokes Stiles had mixed so it would hit her. “I wanna get drunk as fuck tonight, Stiles,” she had said. Well, thought Stiles, you got your wish. She was pretty shit-faced. So much so, in fact, that she had allowed him to kiss her and grope her ass. Not that he was taking advantage; he was just as drunk as she. And they had been dating for a while now. It’s just that Erica wasn’t always in a frisky mood like that. She usually needed a big wind-up before the pitch. Tonight, things were a little more fast and loose.

  
“I don’t think iss a good idea that you’ve got those… that you’re all roll-y and stuff,” he said, giggling right back at her. “You could fall down.”

  
“And then what? I’d just heal,” she said and squinted at him. “I think you’re too drunk. You’re starting to slur your words.”

  
“I did? I mean, I am?” asked Stiles.

  
“Yeah,” she said. “And it’s weird because you’re a smart guy but now you sound dumb. And I don’t like it. You’re not a good drunk.” She shook her head and rolled backward suddenly. “Whoops!” she laughed.

  
“Hey! Wait! Watch out for the-”

  
Stiles fell to the floor after a brief attempt at standing up just as Erica fell backward against the table near the large window. She gracelessly flung her arms out to stabilize herself and ended up sliding slowly down to the floor where she collapsed in another outbreak of drunken giggles. “That was awesome!” she said. “Are you okay?”

  
Stiles scraped himself off of the floor carefully as the room spun around him. “I think we’ve had enough,” he said.

  
“Oh don’t be such a quitter,” she said. With all the agility of a deer on ice, she slowly rose to her feet and slid across to Stiles. “You still stole a kiss from me and I’ve yet to pay you back.”

  
“Oh yeah? What’re you gonna do?”

  
“I’ll think of something,” she said. “It’s gotta be something good- I’ve got it!” She skated over to a shopping bag that she had tossed in the corner of the kitchen when they had gotten back from the drug store. “I bought this for me, but I think it would look way better on you.” She threw a box at him and he caught it with his face.

  
“Ow!” he said. “You coulda taken my eye out!”

  
“You coulda taken my mew mew,” she mocked. “Oh shut up and take your shirt off. We’ll do it in the sink.”

  
Stiles burst into laughter when he saw what she was up to. The box contained hair dye - but not just any hair dye. This was a bright bubblegum pink worthy of a cartoon character. “Oh my god!” he said. “You seriously want to see me with pink hair?”

  
“You don’t want to see you with pink hair?” she asked. “Get the fuck over here and let’s do this, pretty boy.”

  
He stumbled over to her and let her slather the concoction on his head. “Eyebrows too?” she asked.

  
“I think that might be overdoing it,” he said.

  
“Right,” she nodded, “best to just be subtle with this sort of thing.”

  
It wasn’t as bright as the girl on the box had led them to believe, but it was undeniably pink. And some of it had dripped down his forehead and across his nose. Erica had tried to wipe it away, but only managed to stain his skin further, spreading the stuff instead of lifting it off. She laughed and Erica kissed him hard when they were done because the color, and the smear, really did suit him. Somehow it made his amber eyes even more… amber-y. Erica was sure there was something about him that seemed eerily familiar like this, but as she took another shot, she figured she’d think about it later.

  
“Now all you need, my beautiful pink unicorn of love,” she smiled, “is a piece of resistance.”

  
You mean a pièce de resistance,” said Stiles.

  
“Wow,” she said, “you flunk French too?”

  
“Fuck off.”

  
“Ok pepto-head,” she said. “But yeah, you need one of those… pieces. Thingys. You know- like a finishing touch.”

  
“Like what?”

  
“Again, I am much more creative than you,” she said. “I had bought this stuff back at the holidays and never used it.” She had turned and was digging in a drawer in the kitchen which held all the odds and ends in a household. As she searched, the detritus of what she wasn’t looking for collected on the counter: a pair of scissors, rubber bands in a big ball, a racquetball, some string, a deck of cards, the remnants of three broken pens, a set of keys to god-knows-what, and finally she held it up. “A ha!”

  
She held out a vial of glitter.

  
“Oh no,” he said. “That shit gets everywhere. There’s no way you’ll-”

  
She popped the top and came at him, intent on throwing it all over his naked chest and head. He dodged and she advanced, cackling and spraying glitter before her like a deranged be-skated flowergirl run amok at Liberace’s wedding.

  
“Get away! Stop! Ugh! Dammit, Erica! It’s everywhere!” shouted Stiles as he ran about the loft.

  
Everywhere he went, she trailed just behind and coated every surface that surrounded them with multi-colored specks. By the time they had both collapsed into a fit of uncontrollable laughter, it looked like seventeen unicorns had decided to shoot porn and blown their collective loads in a gigantic orgy in Derek Hale’s loft. But Erica and Stiles were too drunk to care. Plus, if Erica was honest, Stiles had enough glitter spread all over his naked torso to make him a little David Bowie - and that was enough for her to pounce.

  
She straddled him, holding him by the face as they sprawled on the floor in a pool of glitter. Dating both him and Derek had been an adventure, but she had always seen Stiles as a fun piece of ass when he wasn’t driving her crazy. Derek was the serious one; Stiles was the goofy one. They appealed to her equally but for different reasons and that was totally okay by her. But this was different: Stiles, usually awkward and a little afraid of her, was instead booze-loose and punked-out pink, glam-glittered and sweaty, shirtless and horny and it was all she could do to keep her panties on as she ground into his hardness and he moaned in her mouth.

  
“Fuck, this is hot, Stiles,” she said and she licked his neck, not caring about the glitter or the sweat, but instead wanting both. Her teeth nibbled his earlobe and he groaned and gripped her hips tighter. “Take your cock out,” she said into the shell of his ear. “I want you to fuck me fully clothed.”

  
“Jesus, yes,” he managed and nimble fingers undid his fly and pulled his prick free. She reached down to stroke him and the rasp of the glitter made him bite his lip and suck in a breath.

  
“Oh God yeah,” she said. “Give me that. Give me that look on your face, Stiles. Want all of you.” She licked at his tongue and they came together in a sloppy slow desperate kiss. She felt him finger her open.

“Mmmm… just like that,” she purred. “You know how I like it.”

  
Stiles had always been surprisingly talented in the fingering department and when he had first tried it on her, she was impressed. He had the length and the strength and there was this little thing he did with his fingers that just hit her-

  
“Oh God!” she cried. “There. Fuck! There, Stiles.” She felt herself getting wet and she gave over to the sensation.

  
“You are so fucking sexy,” he said and sucked at her collarbone, giving the skin a slight nibble at the pull-off. “Holy shit this is amazing.”

  
She put his dick to her clit and held it against her with one hand, undulating into his hardness in rhythm with his ministrations. She found her orgasm building slowly as his fingers and cock pressed against her.

  
His opposing hand pulled down her scoop-necked shirt and lifted one of her breasts out of her bra, thumbing over the nipple before pressing it into his hot mouth.

  
His tongue worked over her flesh and she felt him slip two fingers in. “Oh fuck yeah, Stiles,” she said. It was all she could do to concentrate on holding his cock to her as heat welled up from her belly and curled in her loins. “I think this is the hottest fuck we’ve ever had. God damn it.”

  
“I know, right?!” he said and moved to expose her other breast, flicking the nipple with his tongue as he held the nubbin between his teeth.

  
“Shit! Ugh! You know I love that,” she said. “You fucking amazing bastard. Don’t stop, Stiles. Always wanted you like this. Please.” Her orgasm leapt up from nowhere and her hips followed it, pressing into him with increased intensity.

  
“You gonna come?”

  
“Y-yeah, getting there,” she said. “Don’t stop. Wanna scream for you.”

  
“Oh yeah,” he said, “scream my name. Come on, Erica. Come on. Come for me and scream my name.”

  
His words always had an effect on her. “Fuck! Shit!” Her orgasm crested. She was on the edge of it now: bliss mixed with anticipation mixed with physical tension. All of it coursed through her, rolled over her, until she broke. “STILES!” Her scream morphed into unintelligible sounds as she came down slowly.

  
“Oh shit,” Stiles said, amazed. “You are so fucking gorgeous.”

  
She came down, dazed, her booze-drunkenness blending with her post-sex haze. But despite the release, she was still hungry: “Put it in me, Stiles,” she whispered into his ear, carding a hand through his hair.

“So ready for you. For your cock. Want to ride you.”

  
He obliged with a whimper of want. She sat and glided down his warm shaft until he was seated inside her. She met his eyes and smiled. “That’s the best part, you know. That first push. That first fill-up. It’s so fucking good, Stiles. Your cock is so fucking good.”

  
“Th-thanks,” he said, not wanting to rush her, but the throbbing was killing him. “So… you um…? You ready?”

  
“I’ll take things from here,” she said and gave her hips a little side-to-side wiggle. She smirked at Stiles’ stunned expression: half shock, half glaze-eyed orgasm. “I’m driving this ride.”

  
She came up and slapped herself down on him, riding the length of him only to swallow his length again. Stiles let out a guttural “Ungh!” as the tension mounted for him.

  
“See what I mean?” she said as she coursed fingers through his damp hair. “This is my ride. You take what I give you. Understand?”

  
“Un-huh,” he managed. After a moment, he added: “Please ma’am, may I have another?”

  
Erica gave him a beautiful grin. “Now I like that, Mr. Stilinski. You keep talking like that and I’ll be treating you so sweet.” And she proved it by swaying her hips backward and forward in a smooth snake-like motion that slipped his cock out of her to the tip and right back to the root again. They both let out a groan at that. “Shit,” she said, “I could learn to like this position.”

  
“Come on, Erica,” said Stiles. “More. Please?”

  
“Oh fuck yeah,” she said, grinning craftily. She spent the next several minutes discovering just how far back she could arch and still keep his dick in her as she dipped her hips and he moaned beneath her. He reached for her breasts, massaging them, slipping the nipple between his forefinger and thumb in a slight pinch that he knew she liked. He could always play with her tits, she had told him. His hands were always welcome on her. As he played and watched her, he felt himself desperately wanting to take over, to cause her to move faster, to help his building orgasm along. But instead he waited, savoring the image of this gorgeous creature who was happy to ride his cock and say his name and let him come inside her. But as good as this was, his body would not be denied. His cock inside her was throbbing worse than ever. He needed to come.

  
She could smell the orgasm on him. He was climaxing and she couldn’t help but watch, fascinated, as he braced himself with both his hands against the floor, his head tilted back and lolled to the side, spying on her out of the corner of one sly eye as she rolled her hips over him in waves. He looked like a debauched demi-god.

  
She knew what he wanted, what he loved. “Come for me, Stiles,” she commanded. “Flip me on my back, throw my legs up over my head, and pound me through the floor, you fucking sex god.”

  
He stared at her, eyes popping for a full three seconds before reaching for her, setting her back against the floor and drilling into her over and over and over, chasing his orgasm, pushing past the point of no return with this beautiful creature beneath him, clawing at his skin, crying out his name. “Fu- ERICA!” he screamed as he was flung over the edge and past the point of reason, spurting his load deep within her.

  
“What the FUCK is going on in here?!”

  
Erica picked up her head lazily and looked past Stiles. “Oh, hi honey! Welcome home!” She caught Stiles’ eye and they giggled like school children.

  
“What the- Why is your hair pink? And why is there glitter — fucking EVERYWHERE?!” asked Derek.

  
“Um,” said Erica, looking to Stiles for help.

  
“We um… we thought it might brighten up the place,” said Stiles.

  
“Sure!” said Erica.

  
“You two are covered in glitter,” said Derek as he slowly approached them. “What is going on here?”

  
“Stiles is going through a David Bowie phase,” said Erica. “I think it’s a good look for him. What do you think?”

  
“I think” began Derek, “that I need a new boyfriend and girlfriend.”

  
Stiles pulled out of Erica carefully and re-arranged himself. As he was zipping up, Erica got up awkwardly onto her skates and with an evil grin said simply: “That’s only because you haven’t experienced the joy of showering all this glitter off with your favorite boyfriend and girlfriend.” Derek blinked at her. “Last one in’s a rotten egg!” she cried and glided to the spiral staircase that led to the bedroom and bathroom upstairs. As she awkwardly climbed up, clinging to the railing for dear life, Derek appraised Stiles’ hair as Stiles watched Erica go.

  
“Pink?” Derek asked.

  
“What? Oh. Yeah,” said Stiles, passing a hand through his hair. “Looks kinda stupid, right?”

  
“Actually… It’s kind of Aladdin Sane,” said Derek.

  
“Is that good?”

  
Derek gave him a wry grin. “Get naked and in that shower and I’ll let you know.”


End file.
